Chapter 1: Jersey?
Summary:
Steve enlists in the army
Notes:
Steve pov
Many lines are taken straight from ‘Captain America: The First Avenger’
TWs // blood, Steve getting beat in an alleyway core, war and nazi mentions, feelings of inadequacy, mentions of medical examinations
Chapter Text
1943
I sat in a wooden chair that looked like it was meant for a kitchen, naked if it wasn’t for the white cloth shorts given to me, looking at a newspaper about the size of my entire torso, as I waited for my name to be called.
This is my 5th try to enlist in the army. I’ve always been denied for medical reasons, and maybe this time won’t be any different, but I’m willing to try.
All the men around me read newspapers as well, most of the titles pertaining to the most recent acts of war we’ve received news of from Europe. Their chests were bare like mine, same color shorts as well, all given to us by the medical examiners.
They all looked so big compared to me, muscles adorning each chest in slightly different variations, and confident, but I refuse to let that put me down. Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t make a difference.
Trying to make small talk with the guy to my right, also reading a newspaper, I say, “Boy, a lot of guys getting killed over there.”
“Rogers, Steven.” My name was called out from above me.
The man to my right put down his newspaper as I stood up, “It kind of makes you think twice about enlisting, huh?”
I folded my paper onto my now vacant seat, “Nope.”
When it was my turn to be assessed in the line, I stepped forward with my head held high.
“Rogers…” He looked up at me from my file that he read on a podium, eyebrow quirking with something akin to distaste. “What did your father die of?”
“Mustard gas.” I responded, “He was in the 107th infantry. I was hoping I could be assigned-“
“Your mother?” He cut me off impatiently.
I kept my spirits high, responding like a soldier would, “She was a nurse in a TB ward. Got hit. Couldn’t shake it.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes scanning the file once more, flipping pages. “Sorry son.”
“Look, just give me a chance.” I leaned in, trying my best to convince him, but I know how this plays out.
He stared me down, “You’d be ineligible on your asthma alone.”
“Is there anything you can do?” I asked again, desperate.
“I’m doing it. I’m saving your life.” Then he looked down again, stamping the code “4F” onto a previously empty box in my file, denying me the ability to fight in the war as a soldier. Again.
I stared him dead in the eye, disappointed and upset, grabbed the file in his hand that was outstretched towards me, then walked off past him to collect my clothes from where the nurse told me to put them.
I’m not sure why I thought there could maybe be a different outcome this time around. I don’t know why I thought that every time, but I did. I’ve had to change my location each time to just try to apply, so now the government probably thinks there are 5 different Steven Rogers’s running around out there, all 4F.
In hopes to brighten my spirits, I went to the cinema. The only thing playing at the time was another rerun of a movie I’ve probably seen around 7 times now, but it won’t do too much damage to my pocket so I don’t see why not.
I found a seat near the top of the auditorium, wearing my tan suit jacket with a tie Bucky gave me when I graduated college. We agreed on no gifts, but he gave me one anyway. Said I needed a good tie so I could dress up nice.
As usual, a short film in support of the war efforts played before our movie. Even though most of us in the theater had probably seen it quite a few times by this point, we watched respectfully. Everyone here knows someone overseas.
Then a man in the audience, sitting in front of me, started yelling out insults towards the film, saying “Who cares! Play the movie already!”
I leaned forward and with a lowered voice, said “Hey, you wanna show some respect?”
I heard a mixture of a scoff and a laugh from him, but he stopped for a moment. A woman to my left made eye contact with me for a moment, her eyes watery and rimmed with red from crying.
I turned my attention back towards the screen, but then the same guy from before started yelling out again, “Let’s go! Get on with it!”
More patrons in the theater started to look towards him, disturbed for one reason or another. “Hey, just start the cartoon!” He yelled again.
I leaned forward in my seat, sitting up straight, “Hey, you wanna shut up?”
He stood up tall and opposing, face darkened by the light of the projector screen behind him, as the film rang out with, ‘Together with Allied forces, we’ll face any threat, no matter the size.’
Before I knew it, he was leaning over into my aisle, tugging me up roughly from my seat by my suit jacket, and pulling me towards the exit of the building.
He pushed me into an alleyway, trash, sludge and garbage cans on the ground, and right hooked me in the jaw so hard I stumbled into one of the cans and fell on the floor. I scrambled up off the ground as fast as I could, posing to fight, but he just nailed me in the jaw again and I fell back over.
Leaning on top of one of the easily damaged metal cans, I grabbed its lid by the handle, holding it up in front of me as a shield, whipping around to face him. He yanked it from me, then punched me in the same spot on my face as he did the past 2 times.
Once again I fell, using the dirty walls of the alley to push myself up, blood sitting on my lip and palms covered in dirt. I rolled my neck out, hands in fists, and looked towards him again.
“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” He mocked me, arms swinging at his sides, entertained.
“I can do this all day.”
I swung my right fist towards him with my whole body weight behind it, but he caught my hand, pulled it away from me and nailed me again. This time I spun around so hard and quick my head slammed into the can I took the lid off of as I laid flat on the ground, face now in the dirt on the concrete, blood leaving a trail where my head hit on the can and asphalt.
Suddenly, a familiar voice yelled out from where my attacker was, “Hey! Pick on someone your own size!”
I heard a scuffle behind me and slowly lifted my body off the ground, blood dripping down my chin from the repeated hits.
The new assailant made his way over, “Sometimes I think you like getting punched.”
I was doubled over, standing with my hands on my knees as I tried to wipe the dirt off. “I had him on the ropes.”
Bucky leaned down and picked up my new failed enlistment papers as I groaned with a hand to my head.
“How many times is this? Oh, you’re from Paramus now?”
I looked over my body and clothes, searching for any other damage I should know of.
“You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”
I finally looked up to see my best friend as he stood in all his glory, wearing a brown colored army uniform. My face fell a little. I knew he had signed up but I hadn’t really come to terms with it yet. “You get your orders?”
He looked me up and down for a moment, then held his head high and told me, “The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”
I nodded at his words, my eyes still taking in his new uniform. Feeling salty from today’s events, I looked down, shook my head and said, “I should be going.”
He nodded solemnly for a moment until a smile tore across his face, and he threw an arm over my shoulder, “Come on man. My last night!”
He directed us both towards the alley’s opening onto the street. “I got to get you cleaned up.”
“Why, where are we going?”
“The future.” He told me, handing me my form and a newspaper ad for a science convention it seems.
We walked to a nearby restaurant, heading straight for the bathroom, walking around eating or otherwise busy patrons. Once we made it to our destination, I looked around briefly to check if the stalls and urinals were empty, and they were, so I allowed Bucky to pull me over towards the sink.
I turned on the faucet and did my damnedest to scrub the stubborn dirt off my hands. I heard Bucky rinse his hands in the sink next to me as well, then cupped some water in his hands and brought them up to my face, washing the sediment and blood off.
I turned my head towards him, leaning a little more over the sink and closed my eyes, letting him do his thing. Ever since we were kids he would do this whenever I got sick or hurt. He’d be the one to try and take care of me. My mom thought it funny as she was the resident nurse, but I never really questioned it. It seemed to help him feel like he had some control, even when he didn’t, like it was soothing to him.
Once my face was thoroughly wet and all remnants of dirt and blood were missing (besides a cut on my lip and brow), he dropped his hands, giving me a tight lipped smile, and stepped back to turn and dry his hands on the rotating towel machine. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment, taking in the bruising forming across my temple and jaw, then brushed it off, wiping the water off my soaking wet face and moving to leave the restroom with Bucky.
After a few hours of idle conversation and food at the restaurant we stopped at, it finally was night and we found ourselves at the “World Exposition of Tomorrow”, accompanied by bright fireworks exploding in the air far behind us, different colored flags waving, a giant globe, large crowds, and what looked like an upside-down train on a rail in the air.
As we walked away from some of the hustle and bustle, Bucky talked away to me in response to my displeasure of him leaving, saying, “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.”
I just looked down at my moving feet and towards the side he wasn’t on. He’s missing the point.
“You know there’s three and a half million women here?”
“Well, I’d settle for just one.”
“Good thing I took care of that.” He responded, hand reaching up to wave in the air towards two women standing next to a statue.
My face fell in disappointment. I didn’t expect this to be one of his surprise set-up dates nights. They hardly went well for me, one reason or another. I suspect he leaves out descriptors of what I look like when he tells them about me before hand.
“Hey Bucky!” Yelled out the shorter, brown haired woman.
He smiled back, pearly whites and all, and all I could do was look with detached longing and sadness. “What’d you tell her about me?”
He smirked and looked towards me, “Only the good stuff.” So he left out what I look like. Thanks Buck. Now this poor lady who was expecting a good night is gonna have to be disappointed.
I tried to at least fix my hair (which was a bit ruffled from the wind) and squared my shoulders, in attempt to make a good impression.
The brown-haired girl latched onto one of Bucky’s arms and the her friend, a slightly taller and blonde-haired woman took in my form, then took a deep breath, plastering a forced smile on her face and turned away from me, following Bucky and his girl, grabbing her friend’s hand. I just walked behind them. She’s already made her decision. One look was all it took.
The three ran off to the Stark Expo stage, and an announcement rang out over the loud crowd, Howard Stark making his entrance.
Stark kissed one of the ladies on the stage, either for the hell of it or for audience attention, but it put a bad taste in my mouth.
I managed to grab some cheap popcorn on the way over in one of those little red and white striped bags, and reached between the girls to see if my supposed-date wanted any, but her smile fell when she looked down on it and she turned to look at me, upset. I faced my rejected snack like it was the problem, and tried to brush the whole thing off.
The audience started gasping about something and the ladies on stage took the wheels off some red car. Stark started to flick some switches and say some fancy words, but it didn’t matter because suddenly the car started to lift up into the air.
A few seconds later, sparks started to fly and it fell back down. “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Stark said, and the crowd started to clap.
I turned around with a sigh, and found an Uncle Sam recruitment poster that said, “I WANT YOU for the US ARMY ENLIST NOW”. Above it, a sign pointed to where the closest recruitment station was.
Screw it. I walked off towards where the sign pointed, and I heard Bucky say something behind me. For a moment I thought I heard my name, but I probably heard wrong.
When I made it inside the recruitment station, I stepped up into this platform to try to see myself in a fun house type mirror which was meant to show you as a soldier, but my head wouldn’t even fit into frame. Again, I was too short, or too weak, or asthmatic, or too small.
Bucky came up behind me, pushing on my shoulder playfully, “Come on. You’re kind of missing the point of a double date. We’re taking the girls dancing.”
I stepped away from the platform, moving towards him. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” It’s not like she’s interested anyway.
The smile on his face seeped away. “You’re really gonna do this again?”
I shrugged, “Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.”
“As who, Steve from Ohio?” His words stung, emphasized by his exasperated tone. “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”
I stared at him for a moment. I know how he feels about me trying to enlist, but it doesn’t mean I have to agree with him. I looked down towards his shoes, “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this.”
“This isn’t a back alley Steve. It’s war.”
“I know it’s a war.” I retorted, tired.
“I’m not gonna be there to come and pick you up and dust you off Steve.”
“I know.”
“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs!”
I know he’s trying other angles here, but it’s my decision. My choice. “What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”
“Yes! Why not?”
“I’m not gonna sit in a factory Bucky! Bucky, come on, there are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”
“Right. ‘Cause you got nothing to prove.” He nodded to himself when he said that, then lightly shook his head while keeping his eyes on me.
One of the girls from before yelled out again at him, “Hey Sarge! Are we going dancing?”
He spun to see them. “Yes we are!”, he said happily, arms out.
When he moved back around so I could see him again, he had a light but pained smile on his face.
Shaking his head again and walking backwards towards the girls, he said, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
“How can I?” He moved his head to see me, body half deviated towards the dames, “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”
He rolled his eyes a little at me, walking back to me. “You’re a punk.”
“Jerk.” I retaliated, reaching out to hug him tight, and patting him on the back.
My face now shared the same pained smile but it had become more of a neutral look, distant and caring look. “Be careful.”
He nodded, stepping back.
“Don’t win the war till I get there!”
He turned around for the last time, saluting to me, then ran off.
I walked deeper into the enlistment center, passing by small crowds of men talking amongst themselves.
I went through the usual routine, no different from before, and by the time the physical was over and I was sat on the padded bench buttoning my sleeves, the medical staff started whispering to each other.
I couldn’t make out what they said, but the man who examined me said “wait here” over his shoulder, then pried open the curtain separating this room from the others.
“Is there a problem?”
“Just wait here.” He said again, leaving the room, curtain shut behind him.
I pivoted to read the sign on the wall behind me, which stated: “IT IS ILLEGAL TO FALSIFY YOUR ENLISTMENT FORM.”
The dots started to connect in my brain, and I jumped up off the bench, putting on my shoes.
Suddenly the curtain opened, and a soldier stepped into the room with arms behind his back, staring me down. I’ve been caught.
I sat up straight in my chair, preparing for trouble until the makeshift door opened further and a man with a German-English accent stepped into the room as well, “Thank you.”
The soldier left, politely closing the curtains once again as the new man in a brown suit smiled at me with a file in his hand.
“So, you want to go overseas. Kill some Nazis.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Dr. Abraham Erskine. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” He reached his hand out and I shook it, standing to try and match his height.
“Steve Rogers.”
He nodded as if he already knew that, placed the file on the bench and opened it up to read it.
“Where are you from?” I questioned, it was clear by his accent alone that he’s probably not New York native.
“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He fixed his glasses and turned his attention back to the paper briefly, then looked to me again. “This troubles you?”
“No.” It truly didn’t bother me. He just sounded foreign.
“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers? Hmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities-“
“That might not be the right file.” Damn it.
“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” He closed the file, and stepped towards me, “But you didn’t answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?”
I looked at the threatening sign on the wall from before, then moved my eyes back to him. “Is this a test?”
“Yes.”
I took a second to think, then responded with, “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”
He nodded in consideration and smiled politely, “Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is a little guy, huh?”
I could feel some of the waiting disappointment fall from my body like I just set down a 10-pound weight.
“I can offer you a chance.” He ripped open the curtain, walking out as a cue for me to follow. “Only a chance.”
“I’ll take it!” Finally!
“Good. So where is the little guy from? Actually?” He stopped at a desk outside the exam room, and faced me, my file open on the table.
“Brooklyn.”
He again closed the file, handing it to me. “Congratulations, soldier.” I opened it to find “1A” scribed into the page. He was able to look past my physical restrictions, he’s giving me a chance. I’m not going to waste this.
I took a deep breath and let out a mixture of a sign of relief from not being arrested and happiness from finally feeling like enough.
I closed my file, held it securely to my side on top of the other file already stowed away in my pants, and made my way on home for well deserved rest.
Chapter 2: Pier
Summary:
Steve says his goodbyes before enlistment
Notes:
Steve pov
TWs // reality of war (nothing gory), slight angst
Chapter Text
Just as he said he would, Bucky was shipped overseas to England that night. I thought about trying to catch him at the pier on his way off, but I figured since we’d already said goodbye at the fair there wouldn’t be much of a purpose besides just wanting to see him, and I’m not even sure I’d be able to do that. Who knows, maybe he’d be strapped up in the lower deck.
I wish that I had at least gotten to tell him about my successful enlistment. I don’t imagine he’d be too pleased over the announcement, but I’d like him to know.
Anyways, today I move out for Camp Lehigh, where I’m going to be trained. All I really had left in Brooklyn after my parents’ passing was Bucky, the memories, and an apartment the other side of the railroad tracks. I saw Bucky’s family every once in a while too, but I was never close with them. Not like Bucky was with mine. Sure, I’ve eaten dinner at their house once or twice, but they never really talked much to me and vice versa. I did get to know Rebecca some. Same colored hair as her older brother but longer, shorter in height, blue eyes, more reserved. She’d fit in with her peers just fine.
That’s part of the reason I decided to stop by the Barnes’s place, that and I felt someone should know where I’ve gone. Even if I didn’t know them well, I did still know them some, and their son/brother is my best friend. I don’t want to disappear like a ghost, even if people treat me as one.
I knocked on their front door, peering through the decorative and frosted glass in the center. No one answered, and I was left at the door in my ill-fitting brown army suit. Similar to the one Bucky wore, but not as nice, since he’s a sergeant and I’m only a private. I had my army-issued duffel bag at my side, resting on the ground as it held my things.
I didn’t have much in my apartment. Sold most of it off to pays bills and such, and any large pieces of furniture would be ‘taken care of’, or at least that’s what I was told, so I only brought my most prized possessions and some clothes.
After about a minute of waiting and another knock, someone finally made it to the door, a dark shadow walking up to the door’s window from the other side. I heard a sound from the lock twisting open and then the entryway stood free, Rebecca looking at me from the other side.
“Steve?” She asked, like I wasn’t really standing there, apparently very shocked to see me.
“Hi, yeah, it’s me.” I responded awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand.
“What’re you doing here?” Her voice sounded skeptical. I’m not sure why.
“Just saying bye. I know we’ve never talked much, but Bucky’s already gone and I don’t have anyone else left.”
I could see the cogs whirring in her head as she took everything in. “You look like you’re drowning in that suit.” She remarked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on the doorway.
“Smallest size they had. I’m hoping they can restitch it once I’m there.”
We both just looked at each other for a moment, no words passed between us. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, actually pretty normal for the handful of times we’ve spoken one on one, but something ran beneath it. The harsh reality of why I’m here and Bucky’s not.
“I was uh- also wondering if you could give this to him. Just in case I don’t come back.” I reached into my pocket, pulling out a sealed envelope that read “James Buchanan Barnes” on the side without a seal. I handed it to her, and she reached out, taking it and reading the name it was addressed to, then holding it securely in her hands.
I bent down to pick the bag up and slung it over my shoulder, taking a step backwards towards the end of the quaint porch.
“Take care of yourself.” She told me, stepping back into her lived-in home and holding the door in preparation to close it, nodding in my direction with a thoughtful look on her face.
“You too.” I responded, then turned around to walk down the steps of the porch, onto the asphalt ground and down the street.
I had one last stop to make before I caught my train to the training grounds, and luckily it was on the way.
I hailed a stray taxi, hopping in with my bag behind me, gave my destination, and the car sped off down the street. I occupied my time by looking out the window, cranking the glass panel down to stick my head slightly out of it.
The sights of the street hadn’t changed much from my childhood, the biggest changes being a few new pop-up shops and faster cars.
I stared off into space, the familiar tame colors of buildings, signs and vehicles whizzing by in a blur.
Sooner than later, we arrived at my stop. I handed the driver a few bills and pulled my bag out of the car after me, body staggering a little from the weight I wasn’t accustomed to that suddenly slung over my shoulder. It reminded me of the weight of Bucky’s arms that often found themselves there and wrapped across me.
It’s kinda hard to admit, but I really miss him. When he told me he’d enlisted it felt like a gut punch, and I’ve had those before so I know the exact feeling of when the air gets sucked out of your lungs and you can feel your insides throb and burn.
I felt betrayed and hurt but proud at the same time. Knowing our army had men like Bucky fighting for us kept me sane at night when I was alone, but I never thought of him being one of them on the front lines, ready to lay down their lives.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever had such of a strong drive to do something like I had with enlisting. Sure, I wanted to enlist even before I knew Bucky did, but once he gave me that notice, it wasn’t an option for me not to anymore. We’ve never done anything like that separate of the other, and the knowledge that I wouldn’t be there to help him definitely served as a flame under my ass to ship myself overseas too.
When I finally found myself at the end of the pier that stretched off into the Atlantic, all I could do was sit on the end with my legs dangling over the water and stare out at sea, watching as boats went by on the horizon. I used to do this with Buck when we were kids. Somehow, someway, we’d find ourselves at the shoreline and sit down with our feet above the water, taunting any big fish nearby with our lack of food, and scare off the birds with our loud camaraderie.
I wish we had a picture of one of those times, if not only for the reason of comparing it to us now. While he had gotten bigger and taller, I’d really only grown a little in height. The height markings on the wall in our respective house’s at the time could attest.
I breathed in one more big salty breath of air, holding it for as long as I could, as if I could stay in the moment forever, and then let it out, rising to my feet on the old wood and hoisting my bag up once again. As I made my way back down the dock, I savored the way the planks creaked under my shoes which were filled with old newspapers.
I’ll come back here one day. With Bucky this time.
Chapter 3: Bootcamp
Summary:
Steve goes through bootcamp and meets Agent Carter
-
TWs: minor crying, yelling, physical altercation, bootcamp stuff
Notes:
Sorry I took so long to update. I’ve got inspiration for this again now so you can expect the next chapter not to be half a year away lmao
Chapter Text
Steve’s POV
*Time skip ahead about 2 weeks*
The rustling of feet on wooden floors and beds being made woke me up, with the sound of a bugle blaring behind it.
I’ve always been a bit of a heavy sleeper, which is good for sleeping in a busy city and a full barrack, but not for a battlefield. My supervisor has made that very clear.
As my fellows soldiers threw on their green army uniforms, I rolled over in bed for mine, stumbling out of it when I overestimated the lackluster amount of room the mattress gave me to move. The other men in the room snickered at me. I tried to pay them no mind, and continued on dressing for the morning.
By the time everyone was dressed and beds made, I had only just finished dressing, and the bugle’s song was starting to end, meaning my CO would be walking in any second now. I threw my arms out over the bed, yanking the layers of fabric up the bed and taught as fast as possible, but the door opened.
“Attention!”
I whipped around and stood in position with the other men, shoulders square and arms at my sides.
The CO examined each man and his bed, eventually standing still at my own.
“Your bed Rogers. It’s messy.”
I stood staring straight, hoping that’d satisfy him.
“Why is that, Rogers?”
“I woke up late sir.” I told him.
My CO’s face twisted into a displeased look, “You know what I think about that, don’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
He moved on.
After waking us in the morning, we got to meet Agent Carter, who made quite the impression on Hodge.

She felt familiar, in a sense. It was comforting. Obviously I had never met her before, but I could’ve sworn otherwise. Maybe it was because she looked a little like Bucky. Acted like him too. They both seemed to have that sense of righteousness and justice that I appreciated. That ‘not willing to take shit or let others take shit’ mentality.
Plus their eyes glittered the same when they fought.
After some personally pointed comments from Colonel Phillips to the group, and a few shared looks from Erskine, Agent Carter worked us to the bone. I couldn’t manage to keep up with the rest of the company, nevermind support them in training like they could each other.
Some of the other recruits made efforts to prevent me from continuing (which is the last thing I’ll stop doing), forcing me to crawl through barbed wire to finish to the other side, instead of just crawling beneath it.
“Rogers! Get that rifle out of the mud!”
Oh brother.
Once we were halfway through our daily run, the CO told us to get the flag at the top of a flag pole to earn a free ride back to base.
All of the soldiers clamored for it, pulling each other down to try and get it, as I jogged over, watching from afar.
If it was anything like the flagpole back home at Coney Island, it’d have a bar holding it up and securing it at the base.
And just like that I earned an easy car ride back.
Once I thought the horror was finally over and there was no way they or the officers could torture me any further, someone made the bright decision to let off a live grenade.
Without a thought of hesitation, I jumped on it, screaming for everyone to get back. I’m not sure why’d they’d make the decision to harm the soldiers so easily, but at least I can take it upon myself to protect the others.
After a moment once I realized it wasn’t going to explode and relief instead of pain flooded through my system, Dr. Erskine waved me over to follow him. After a shared look with Agent Carter and a nod from the dame, I scrambled up and left to follow.
By nightfall, I had all the information the SSR was willing to give me on the super soldier program as their first test subject.
I was to be given a serum which would enhance all the features of a man, from his muscles to what is inside. In Erskine’s words, “Good becomes great. Bad becomes worse.”
“A strong man, he might lose respect for that power if he has had it for all his life, but a weak man? A weak man knows the value of strength and compassion.”
His finger poked my chest, slightly to the left of my sternum, right above my heart.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, promise me you’ll stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.” His expression was a serious one.
“I promise. To the little guys.”
I held up my respective shot of liquor, but his eyes quickly widened and snatched the short glass from my hand.
“What am I doing? You have a procedure tomorrow. No fluids.”
I rolled my eyes a little. I don’t imagine a single shot would be that threatening, but I’m not the doctor.
Erskine bid me goodnight, then left the barrack, leaving me alone with the empty beds and crickets chirping outside the window in the cold night air.
This is the last night that I’m going to be me. True, unaltered, me.
That night when I fell asleep, I didn’t try to stop the few tears I had from escaping my eye.
Chapter 4: Hail Hydra
Summary:
Steve becomes a super soldier
TW// multiple character deaths
Notes:
Me skirting around possible copyright like I’m in the matrix
Chapter Text
“You start running, they’ll never let you stop.”
…
“The right partner.”
…
“Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”
…
“You save me any of that schnapps?”
…
The machine’s doors locked shut above me, leaving me and my serum pumped veins enclosed in the metal that was about to transform me into a super soldier.
My body burned from the blue solution, veins throbbing with each beat of my heart, which was pounding.
I could still feel exactly where each injection was, a phantom feeling of the needles left in my skin. I was able to hear mumbling from the other side of the small glass window.
Suddenly, a louder reverberating knocking echoed through the container, and I faintly saw the white frazzled hair of Dr. Erskine approach the window. “Steven? Can you hear me?”
“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom right?” I called out in response, confirming I’m ok to go, and then saw Erskine step away from the window.
Within roughly 10 seconds, the small chamber started to brightly glow. I closed my eyes firmly shut, but the light shone right through my eyelids.
The burning sensation in my body got increasingly stronger, and was followed by a thrumming. I started to scream out from the rapidly increasing pain, arms and legs shaking from a combination of claustrophobia and serum.
A muffled “STEVEN! STEVEN!” yelled out to me from behind the barrier, followed by a quieter “Kill the reactor!”
“NO!” I yelled back, so close to getting my dream, “Don’t! I can do this!”
The light around me somehow managed to get even brighter, and then abruptly turned off completely.
Finally the pain was over, and I leaned my head back against the wall in exhaustion, heart still racing.
There was a hissing sound followed by a wave of cold air, as I realized the doors were opening. I tried to flex my arm and found there was much less wiggle room than before. 
“Steven. Steven.” Dr Erskine reached out for me, with Stark taking my other side, helping me step down.
I finally opened my eyes to look down and saw, the tops of peoples heads? And someone’s abs beneath me.
Wait- those are mine. Those abs belong to me. Holy shit. “I did it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I think we did it.” Retorted Erskine.
“You actually did it.” Responded Howard.
I saw a brunette pushing her way through the crowd, which I quickly connected the dots to be Agent Carter.
Her eyes flitted around my body after she stopped in front of me to stare. “How do you feel?”
Out of breath, I answered, “Taller.”
One of her hands briefly reached out to touch one of my pecs, which I would’ve laughed at had I not been so out of breath. “You look taller.”
She helped assist me in putting on a white t-shirt, which now seems to be a new challenge of mine, given all the muscles I’ve been graced with.
It feels like if I pull my arms too tight in front of me, the shirt would rip right off at the seams.
Suddenly, an eerie feeling befalls the crowd of previously exuberant chatting, and just for less than a second, you could practically touch the static fear in the crowd: something bad is about to happen.
Suddenly, an explosion goes off in the gallery, followed by an eruption of heat and glass raining down on us. Then a gunshot.
“No!” I yelled, seeing Erskine start to fall to the ground, and one of the supposed business men from earlier making a mad dash out of the room, a pistol and the last vial of serum in hand. Agent Carter ran up the stairs behind him. “Doc!”
Erskine smiles up at me, pained but proud, and he taps my chest with one finger. Its message to be interpreted later, I sprung up and chased down the assailant.
A few bodies littered the hallway, all with mortal wounds undoubtedly from the business man’s gun; followed by brief machine gun fire echoing through the halls.
I re-entered the fake antique store front just in time to catch sight of Agent Carter in the street, ducking down from another explosion. Quickly, she started firing on the getaway car once again, causing it to crash.
After I finished checking the old store-owner turned spy’s body for signs of life (and not finding any), I looked back up to the street and saw Agent Carter standing there, arm outstretched, shooting a taxi car headed straight for her.
I ran out as fast as I could, tackling her to the ground, saving the agent’s life but angering her in the process, “I had him!”
“Sorry!” I simply yelled back, then began to chase the runaway car down.
My body now moved like a well-oiled machine, I sprinted down the car, increasing moving faster, legs pumping and heart thumping, no end in sight.
Most of the chase was a blur, horse blinders on as a ran, wearing holes into my shoes. But I do remember clearly the crunching of a pill and words that would come to haunt me, “Hail Hydra”.
Chapter 5: No Time to Mourn
Summary:
Steve battles with his new importance in the world
Chapter Text
1 week later
No time to mourn. The world just keeps spinning.
(Start playing “Star-Spangled Man”)
“Who’s strong and brave here to save the American way?”
“Not all of us can storm a beach or drive a tank, but there’s still a way all of us can fight.” I announced to the crowd of mostly excitable children and bored adults, still relatively new to my lines, reading them off my flimsy metal shield.
“Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and day?”
“Series E defense bonds! Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun.” What a tongue-twister than one is.
“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane! The star-spangled man with a plan!”
I can’t do this.
I moved to walk offstage, but Peggy caught me at the curtain.
“We can’t ignore there’s a threat and a war we must win!”
“You gotta let me go.” I whispered to her.
“You’re missing your lines, Captain!” She pushed me back onto stage, making me stumble out in front of the crowd, standing in front of the singing women.
“Who’ll hang a noose on a goose stepping loose from Berlin?”
I moved to stand in the middle, hands on my hips, forgetting my lines, smiling like an idiot.
“Who will redeem, heed the call for America? Who’ll rise or fall? Give his all for America?”
I started following the choreography now, walking down the line of chorus girls.
“Who’s here to prove that we can? The star- spangled man with a plan!”
…Later that day
“I can’t believe they’re turning me into a propaganda machine! I was made to be a soldier! Erskine would’ve never stood for this.” I ranted to Peggy, expressing my frustrations, switching back and forth between angrily flailing my hands and running them through my hair while pacing the room.
She sat on a bench inside the large tent, knees bent together in a proper manner, heeled shoes on the muddy ground. “Not all of being a soldier is fighting! If they needed you on the battlegrounds more than they needed you here, then you wouldn’t be here!”
I stopped at what she said, her accented words making a point. “So this is my life now?”
“Yes, Steve.” She said solemnly.
“I just have to be their dancing monkey? Like a traveling circus show?”
“Yes, Steve.”
I sighed and crouched down where I was standing, hunched over with my arms around my knees, staring down at the muddy ground.
….
“What’re you thinking?”
“….nothing important.” Couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Chapter 6: Azzano
Summary:
SPOILER
Bucky gets captured at Azzano
Notes:
Very fast paced chapter sorry
Bucky’s pov
Chapter Text
“Bucky! Get a look at this!” Robert was slumped over in his army-assigned bed, flipping through magazine cut-outs of pin-ups he somehow acquired.
I walked over to him after pulling on my long sleeve shirt, now wearing a classic army colored dark green, my dog tags silently jangling against my chest.
Robert thrusted one of the pin-ups into my hand, which featured a blonde girl in a skimpy bathing suit and heels, her hair perfectly curled. “That one’s a real doll, right?”
“…Yep. Sure is.” I said to placate him, then dropped it on his chest and went back to my adjacent bunk. He does this all the time.
“Oh! Get a look at this!” He tossed a newspaper towards me, it landing lopsided on my bed and sliding off onto the floor.
I groaned out a “what?” before kneeling down to pick up the papers, but my attention was quickly caught.
The cover story was titled “CAPTAIN AMERICA” and featured a photograph of a stocky, light haired- presumably blonde based off the shade of grey -man, holding a shield. He reminded me of Steve if he was taller, and bigger, and… it’s not Steve.
I can’t help the disappointment that flooded my system at the sight of a his clone in the paper. So close yet so far.
But life on base can never be that peaceful, can it?
An alarm sounded throughout the base, soon followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. I pulled on my combat boots and ran out of the barracks, sprinting towards my station.
I took my spot at the first line of defense, aiming the gun to shoot down the incoming HYDRA soldiers.
But we weren’t quick enough.
After only a few minutes of lack luster combat and being overwhelmed by the surprise attack, we were given the order to retreat from the frontline.
I ducked down from the hole-in-the-wall shooting spot I had in an old broken down building, turning to look at my group of men. ‘Don’t forget, you’re a sergeant’ I told myself in my head.
My men had followed suit and were ducked down beneath or behind the wall in their respective spots, all privates, staring at me for instruction.
I waved a plethora of hand signals, demonstrating what path we would take to get out. We’d all been in Azzano for a few weeks now, and had it memorized so in theory, it should be easy. Right?
I lead the charge, gun posed as I navigated the corners with my small group of roughly 15 privates behind me. A few Nazis popped up here and there, but it was relatively easy to take them out especially when they were caught off guard with the unfamiliar terrain.
“Stoppen! Einfrieren oder ich schieße!” A man up ahead called out to us, gun poised to shoot me.
I lifted my gun to shoot him, he didn’t seem to have the nerve to fire first anyway, but then the cold muzzle of a rifle pressed into my temple.
“Senkt die Waffen!” I listened to him this time, doing what I presumed he was commanding and lowering my weapon, and the privates followed suit.
The nervous man ripped my weapon from my hand, and commanded the rest of the men to drop them to the ground.
The man with the gun against my temple pulled me away from the others, turning me to face them all as they looked like they were about to shit bricks.
“Er scheint gut zu Zolas Projekt zu passen” The man with the gun said, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me a little to emphasize whatever point he was making.
The nervous man nodded at whatever the other was saying, and the man behind me spoke again “Okay, töte sie alle.”
He pulled me away from my men as the nervous man, contrary to his nickname, firmly held his gun posed at my men, and started to fire into the crowd.
“No!” I yelled out and tried to fight them, but it was no use. The ground began to bleed red as they all collapsed in screams of terror an anguish.
The man behind me bashed me in the head with the muzzle of the rifle, knocking me to the ground.
My head throbbed and my vision started to fade, helplessly lying on the ground as one of my men- Robert -locked eyes with me for the last time before rasping out his dying breath.
Then everything went black.
Chapter 7: The 107th
Summary:
Steve preforms for some GIs
Steves Pov
Chapter Text
“Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать, Рассвет…”
…
“How many of you are ready to help me sock old Adolf on the jaw?” I yelled out to the disinterested crowd.
Silence echoed back.
“…Ok, I’m gonna need a volunteer!”
“I already volunteered! How do you think I got here!” A GI in the crowd yelled back.
The audience wasn’t silent for his comment, bursting with laughter at it in fact. My shoulders stiffened and back straightened.
“Bring back the girls!” Yelled a man from the same area, presumably the same guy.
They deserve to at least see what they want given their hard work. “I think they only know the one song… but- I’ll- I’ll see what I an do.” I started to turn to walk away.
“You do that sweetheart!”
“Nice boots tinker bell!”
I turned back around to glare at the hecklers, then said “C’mon guys, we’re all on the same team here-“
Then another heckler stood up and mooned me, saying “Hey captain! Sign this!”
Next thing I knew, a few men stood up a hurled tomatoes at me! I had to duck behind my flimsy metal prop shield to not get juice all over me. I could feel the shield wobble at the impacts, juiced tomatoes falling down at my feet onto the wooden deck.
I just turned around and left, and luckily the dancers were running back onto the stage as the cheering started to take its course, changing from rowdy hollering to excitement.
The stage manager behind said stage tried to comfort me as I was walking off, but it all fell on deaf ears, more dancers rushing past me up the steps.
I ripped my mask off my head and grabbed my coat to protect myself from the coming rain. Inside its pockets were my notebook and pencil, already throughly worn yet waiting to be used.
I found a secluded spot, and opened my notebook to get drawing and ran my fingers through my roughed up hair to tame it as the rain started to come down in a heavy pour, surely soaking the crowd of GIs. Serves them right.
Inside the pages were old scraps of my letter to Bucky, the only evidence being the leftover paper remaining from when I tore it out of the book, cut-off and illegible words lingering at the side, and my memory of writing it in the first place, the words stuck firmly in my mind after rereading it so many times.
I flipped through a few more pages and a picture of Bucky and I at Coney Island slid out. It was of us on the boardwalk, the infamous Ferris Wheel looming behind us in the near-distance. I was still my skinny self, having just got over a nasty sickness in that image, and Bucky had taken me out to celebrate my health after a few months in bed.
While I will always hold a special place in my heart for that nostalgia, I do not miss the repeated sickness that seemed to always find me.
I flipped to a fresh page and began to draw. The artist in me took the liberty to draw a unicycling monkey, subconsciously referencing my earlier conversation with Peggy.
A little while later, she herself showed up.
“Hello, Steve.”
I turned around in surprise, not expecting her, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“What’re you doing here?” I snapped my drawing book closed at turned to face her.
“Officially, I’m not here at all.” She said in that British accent of hers, sitting down behind me to the left, with her jacket covering her knees where her skirt didn’t. “That was quite a performance.”
“Yeah… uh- I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I’m used to are usually more uh… twelve.” I turned away from her but continued listening.
“I understand you’re ‘Americas New Hope’?”
“Bond sales take a 10% bump in every state I visit.” I regurgitated.
“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?”
“…At least he’s got me doing this. Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.” I said remorsefully, not exactly liking either option.
“And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing monkey?” She said, referring to the notebook I guess she saw or the last conversation we had… or frankly both. “You were meant for more than this you know.”
I turned to look at her, but no words left my mouth. Too many thoughts swam in my head.
“What is it?” She asked kindly but prodding.
“You know, for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas, being on the frontlines, serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted… and I’m wearing tights.”
A medical van beeped in the distance, men yelling orders as injured GIs were pulled out for assistance.
“They look like they’ve been through hell.” I said, in a faux sort of longing. In a perfect world we wouldn’t have to even be here, but it’s not a perfect world, and even though I’m meant to be the ‘perfect soldier’ I’m not.
“These men more than most.” Peggy responded, briefly debating something in her head before deciding to speak again. “Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him, and less than 50 returned.”
I blinked sadly at her comment, the realities of war settling over my frame.
“Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”
The realization hit me like a truck.
“The 107th?” Bucky.
Chapter 8: Helmet and Shield
Summary:
Steve prepares to walk into the jaws of death
Steve POV
TWs //
Censored slur
Chapter Text
“Colonel Phillips!” I rushed into his tent, the downpour running off my back onto the ground.
“Well if it isn’t the Star-spangled man with a plan. What is your plan today?” He responded sarcastically, not even looking up from his papers.
“I need the casualty list from Azzano-“
“You don’t get to give me orders son.” He looked up from his papers, reading glasses low on his nose.
“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.” I pleaded with him, name rolling off my tongue in a practiced manner.
He looked past me to Peggy, who was standing behind me to my right. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.” He pointed his finger at her, then moved to continue reading his papers.
I urgently interrupted him, “Please tell me if he’s alive sir, BAR-“
He looked back up and me and said, “I can spell.”
A heavy pause filled the air as he took a moment, then stood up out of his seat to face me, “I have signed more of the condolence letters today than I would care to count. But, the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.”
It’s like my heart was violently ripped out of my chest, and thrown on the floor as it beat wildly, rolling around, panting and squealing even like a wounded dog, just for a knife to plunge into its center and cease.
My reaction must’ve been apparent in my actions, because Peggy’s hand found my shoulder and squeezed it tightly in comfort.
Then a thought struck me, what if he’s not dead? He can’t be. There must be a chance he is alive and trapped among the other captives. There has to be.
And then there are the other men trapped there too, they deserve to be free as well.
“What about the others?” I pushed out of my mouth, drying up at the thought of what they’d been through. “Are you planning a rescue mission?”
Colonel Phillips quickly responded, “Yes, it’s called winning the war.”
“You’d wait indefinitely long? If you know where they are, why not at least-“
He interrupted me before I had the chance to continue, “They’re 30 miles behind enemy lines through some of the most fortified territory in Europe. We’d loose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re just a f@g chorus girl.”
…what? I’m not even..?
“I think I understand just fine.” I said a little too slow, accidentally conveying my confusion instead of confidence.
He looked at me in the eye solidly, then said “Well, then understand it somewhere else.” He walked past me, speaking over his shoulder “If I read the posters correctly you got someplace to be in 30 minutes.”
Someplace to be, just not the spot he’s imagining.
“Yes sir, I do.”
I took mental image of the map behind his desk with the location of Azzano and the HYDRA fort pinned in place on it, and marched out of the tent, making a beeline across the muddy water-soaked field to my quarters.
The tent had sprout a leak in the corner, water dribbling down to splash into a small puddle like a leaky faucet in a constant motion.
My bed sat towards the midline of the room, neatly made like a soldier with my bag shoved underneath. I ripped it out from under in haste, throwing my wet coat off and shoving it into the bag.
The squelching of mud made Peggy’s presence known at the entryway, “What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?” she said, panicked but not out of breath.
“If that’s what it takes.” I need to get Bucky and those men home safe to their families.
“You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead.”
“You don’t know that. Not him. Not Bucky.”
“Even so, he’s devising a strategy as is. If he detects-“ She said, exasperated.
“By the time he’s done that, it could be too late!” I finished packing my bag and threw it over my shoulder, rushing out of the tent.
“Steve!” Peggy called from behind me.
The rain had finally let up, but the ground still ran cold beneath my boots. I jogged over to a car and threw my bag into the back. Peggy ran up next to me, staring at me pleadingly with the look of trying to persuade a mad man.
I slowed for a moment to speak to her, stopping in my tracks, “You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”
She spoke back to me just as firmly as I did, “Every word.”
Pause over, “Then you gotta let me go.” I sat myself in the front of the car, fully ready to steal from an army base.
She walked up next to me, “I can do more than that. Get yourself a helmet and that shield, we’re flying out of here.”
Chapter 9: 32557038
Summary:
Bucky is captured
Bucky POV
TWs/
Blood, restraints, torture?
Notes:
Sorry the chapters so short
Chapter Text
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557038.” I mumbled to myself in the pitch black room. My legs and arms were strapped down tight to the table beneath me, immovable.
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557038.” I tried wiggling feeling back into my fingers, but they had gone numb hours ago.
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557038.” The silence in here was starting to drive me a bit crazy. All I could picture in the inky black was bullets firing into a crowd. And red, lots of red.
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557038.” I miss Steve. I hope he’s safe back home. I hope he’s not lonely.
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 325570-”
“Silence!” A bright light flickered to life, blinding me.
I immediately stopped talking, startled by the first thing I heard- other than myself -in probably a day and the sun-exploding light that penetrated the room. I started wiggling around in my binds again, the new sound and light giving a spark back to my endurance to withstand this nonsense.
“Stop moving солдат.” The same firm voice said, belonging to a man.
Just to give him a kick in the keister, I started to wiggle around even more, pulling on my binds as hard as I could roll against them.
He punched me on the left side of my face, surely giving me a black eye and cutting open my cheek, if the warmth trickling down my face and the sting I felt meant anything.
He didn’t seem to know how to punch, given that he did it wrong, but still did enough damage that I was bleeding.
My vision finally adjusted to the room, and I was in a lab of some sorts. It seemed to be somewhat shabbily put together, but had the main features you’d find in a doctor’s office, if that office was run down.
The man stuck me with a needle without warning, making me gasp out in pain and writhe around. Once he pulled away I saw that he took a vial of blood from me, the stepped back to his station at the counter to my right.
He worked in silence for some time, which I got tired of pretty quickly and decided to test in the first way I could think of.
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557038”
“I already told you to be quiet!” He turned around to face me angrily.
“I am Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557038”
“I don’t care! Stop talking солдат!”
“I AM SERGEANT JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES OF THE 107TH!”
“Солдат! Я тебя застрелю!” He raised his gun to point at me.
“THREE TWO”
“Солдат!”
“FIVE FIVE”
He walked up to me until we were face to face.
“SEVEN ZERO THREE EIGHT”
He took the butt of his gun and rammed it into the front of my head, knocking me unconscious in a blunt burst of pain.
Chapter 10: An Angel in the Flesh
Summary:
Bucky POV
TWs // syringe mention, pain, fire, general turmoil and fighting, cigarettes, illness
Chapter Text
Seasonal allergies had been hard on Steve this year, and the cold of the winter wasn’t doing anything to help his asthma.
I sat next to Steve in a not-so-comfortable dining chair as he laid in bed, smoking one of his expensive asthma cigarettes. His breath smelled of herbs as he coughed over his fist, cigarette clutched in his small fingers.
I scooted closer to him, holding out an ashtray to take it away for him, to which Steve snuffed it out in the metal tin.
His mom called out from a room over in the small apartment, her voice echoing through the walls. “Did he finish it?”
“Yes Mrs Sarah!” I called back, placing down the dish on his nightstand with a clank. I listened to her footsteps as she approached, and felt his head with the back of her hand.
“Stevie, if you don’t get better soon I’m afraid you’ll have to miss school tomorrow.” She said with her hands on her hips.
“No! I can’t miss-“ Steve’s frame was wracked with coughs, wheezing breaths as he tried to keep up with the words flowing out of his mouth, “I can’t miss! I have a project with Bucky I have to present!” He looked to me, eyes wide and helpless. I gave him a pained expression and shrugged in return.
“The answer is no, young man. He’ll have to do it without you. Now rest up.” She waved he hand at him, conversation over, then put a hand on my shoulder and whispered into my ear “Don’t let him get out of bed”, before walking out of the room to resume her motherly duties.
After a few pangs of silence, Steve quietly asked “What’d she tell you?”
“She told me not to let you leave bed.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned back against his pillow. “She never lets me do anything.” He crossed his arms defiantly.
“Just give me the notes you made and I can present it.” I offered, shifting in the wooden chair.
“You can’t do both parts! I have to be there!” He sighed, exasperated.
“It’s not like Mrs. Esposito will let us do it later.” I grumbled, my arms crossed like his.
“Exactly! Which is why I have to-“ coughs wracked his body again, interrupting him. “-be there.” He squeaked out.
We sat in silence for a moment, and I chewed my lip as I went over my thoughts. “Where’s your notes?”
Steve pointed to his backpack, situated across the room. I got up and dug through it, finding it relatively quickly amongst a few other stray papers.
I smoothed out the wrinkled paper on my leg, then cleared my throat and said with my best booming theater voice, “The future! Full of new technology and-“ then with a comically deeper voice, meant to be Steve, said “a bunch of ackamarackus! A big old’ boondoggle.” I started pacing the room, one of my hands flailing around in the air as I talked with it.
Steve giggled at my demonstration and I cracked a smile, continuing on.
“What do you mean? There will be flying cars!”
“How is that practical? Who even wants that?”
I continued on the script, much to Steve’s entertainment as he laughed at his own jokes as if he’d never seen them before.
I closed my eyes and laughed, leaning my hands on my knees at the pure joy on his face.
When I opened my eyes, he wasn’t there.
“Steve?” I lolled my head to the side to try and see him, but I was met with the blurred sight of brick walls, and two large windows where minimal light was streaming in. Equipment stood up around me, all angling to face me on the table where I laid like a lab rat.
Assured by hurried footsteps made themselves known in the hallway, and in came three men, two armed with guns and one with a kit. I watched in silence as they came in, dazed and slightly confused, dry lips parted to breathe. I can’t remember the last time I had water.
The man with the kit was short, stout man. A scientist type. He opened the kit and fumbled with a blue serum of sorts, clumsily sucking it up into his comically large syringe that I couldn’t find it in myself to be too afraid of.
‘It’s probably going into my leg’ I distantly thought, blinking at it, too stunned to fight back but not exactly willing to comply, as if I ever would be.
I quickly found out my guess was wrong, when one of the men with a gun held down my head firmly against the metal of the examination chair, making me grit my teeth in pain and start to thrash around.
“Оставайся на месте!” Commanded one of the soldiers, falling on deaf ears. They know I don’t understand them. They don’t care.
The second gunned man used his hands to hold my shoulders still as the first held my head down roughly. The scientist walked over and flicked the needle of the syringe to clear out the air bubbles, then promptly stuck it into my neck, making me scream out in pain.
He injected me with the mystery serum, and I swear I could feel it rampaging through my body. Tears sprung into my eyes as I began to cry out, shaking uncontrollably as the guards let me go. I imagine this is what it would be like to have a seizure, fully conscious while poisoned, veins on fire.
The shaking and burning weaned off after about 20 minutes, my voice hoarse from screaming, but my vision had gone blurry and I had a killer headache. The men had long left the room.
I started to cry again, tears already having dripped into my hair, leaving wet splotches. I… I want Steve. I wish he was here with me. I wish he was here to brush his fingers through my hair, and clean my knuckles after I got into a fight for him. I wish I was home.
…
I must’ve fallen asleep at some point against my best efforts to stay awake, but it didn’t matter now because the stout scientist was back, and he was in a panic.
My eyes flickered open to see him, vision still slightly blurry from sleep but otherwise cleared. He was grabbing stray papers from all across his desk, and shoving them into a bag, then took his hat off a hook and left in a hurry.
Something in me realized why he was leaving in such a hurry.
Would I remember who I am after I died? Will I go to heaven? Will Steve miss me? I started mumbling to myself to ease the incoming stress of my imminent death.
“I am Sergeant James… James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. 32557- 7038.”
“Sergeant James Barnes of the…” I groaned, “32557038.”
There were footsteps running down the hallway. I closed my eyes. This is it.
“Sergeant… 32557-“
“Bucky?” An all too familiar voice said. It must be an angel. “Oh my god” One of its hands ran tenderly through my short hair. It stopped just as soon as it started, and moved down the table to rip the restraints off my legs.
I finally opened my eyes and lolled my head to my left side to see it, “Is that..?”
“It’s me. It’s Steve.” He said, ripping the arm and chest restraints off.
“Steve?” He looked like him, sounded like him, but it was like someone cut his face out of a picture and glued it onto another of a beefy man in a magazine. Were my eyes still fooling me?
“Come on.” He whispered out, pulling me up to stand.
“Steve” I said with a smile, finally fully recognizing him. I stood on wobbly legs for the first time in days as Steve’s eyes looked me up and down.
“I thought you were dead.” He said, panting. His left hand moved to cradle my head, and the other went to my waist to hold me up like a fragile dame. My heart broke a little at his words.
I looked him up and down just the same, elated to see him but my body still thrumming with fading pain. “I thought you were smaller” was all I managed to get out, so many thoughts running through my head.
Guns fired in the distance, creating an unsettling ambience, one where you knew you didn’t have much time and have to flee. We are in a war after all, and the building must be rigged to detonate.
Steve looked around the room, his face one of shock and well-controlled panic. His eyes flickered quickly over a map on the wall of what I assume to be HYDRA bases, but there’s no way he’d be able to remember them all. Maybe I could get one if I really tried.
“Come on.” He repeated, then hooked his arm underneath my shoulders, effortlessly supporting my weight. I looped my arm over his shoulders too, and he essentially dragged me out of the room as my feet struggled to keep up.
“What happened to you?” I asked. The last I’d heard of him he was still my scrawny friend back in Brooklyn.
“I joined the army.” He supplied, panting slightly as we quickly hobbled out of the room.
I quickly started to get my bearings and walked on my own, so Steve let go so he could be ahead of me. “Did it hurt?”
He briefly cocked his head to the side, “A little.” I almost snorted at that, that liar.
“Is this permanent?” I’m gonna miss my small Steve.
“So far.” He said with a lilt in his voice. I know this is what he’s wanted for so long, so for his sake I hope it is lasting.
I heard men shouting as we made our way down the corridor, screaming and guns ablaze. Then there were the explosions.
The building rocked as HYDRA scrubbed itself clean of any remnants of its wrongdoings, knocking me into Steve’s body. His back was firm and hard, muscly. He quickly righted me but held me to his side, arm slung over my shoulders protectively. Some debris came flying at us as he held up his shield to deflect it, one that looked remarkably like a stage prop, and we kept running.
We exited out to a labyrinth of rickety metal stair cases and walkways, navigating it to try and escape until a pale man with a German accent stopped us from across the fiery gap, accompanied by the scientist from before, a single bridge connecting us to them. “Captain America! I am a great fan of your films!”
Captain America? Like the paper? Is he talking about Steve?
Steve walked out on the bridge, growing closer towards the German man who stepped forward as well. “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all.” He continued, “Not exactly an improvement, but still… impressive.”
Steve proceeded to nail him with a solid right hook (which he learned from me), and the German stumbled back, lightly touching his face in shock.
“You’ve got no idea.” Steve said. I could barely hear him over the roar of the hot fire below.
The German stood up tall, the skin under one of his eyes scarily out of place leaving room for a red sliver of flesh to show through, as if Steve had punched him so hard it slid. “Haven’t I?” He retorted, then threw his own punch, visibly denting Steve’s flimsy shield.
Steve reached for his gun but the German was quicker, either pistol-whipping or punching Steve again, his own gun in hand. It was hard to tell from this angle, but nonetheless Steve’s gun tumbled out of his hand and fell into the fire below, leaving him down on his back like a flipped over turtle. I started to move to help him backup like always, but Steve kicked the German into the air from his vantage point on the ground like a comic superhero, the German flying back.
Both men quickly stood up again as the stout scientist from before pulled a lever that split the bridge in two, disconnecting it and sliding back into place tucked beneath the decks. I grabbed onto Steve’s uniform, pulling him back onto the stable ground.
“No matter what lies Erskine told you,” the German started again, “you see, I was his greatest success!” He scratched at the skin of his neck, peeling it back, ripping his own flesh- oh? Instead of peeling his skin off, he struggled to pull off a very realistic mask, revealing his true face underneath. A sunken in, bathed in red face. I had to rub my eyes to believe it was true. You could see the ridges of his brows, his cheekbones pronounced, and nasal cavity exposed.
“…You don’t have one of those, do you?” I asked Steve. I could hear him snort a small laugh.
“You are deluded, Captain!” Red Skull announced. “You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind.” He dropped his flesh mask into the flames. “Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!” He backed into an elevator with the scientist.
“Then how come you’re running?” Steve yelled back as the elevator closed, not receiving an answer although they most definitely heard him.
I ducked uselessly behind the metal rails as more explosions set off around the facility. Steve stepped in to my side with the shield to try and protect me from any more debris.
He looked around for a moment, then said “Come on, let’s go. Up!” Grabbing my arm and tugging me to the staircase behind us. I scrambled up behind him, following him down the rickety pathway, close behind as we ran together.
He stopped in front of a support beam that stretched across the gap, obviously signaling to me that we needed to cross it, saying “Let’s go. One at a time.” He helped me get over the railing, unsteady legs and a tight-rope walk not being the best combination.
I looked out over the literal fiery pit of doom, and the weak metal beam that separated me from it, unsure, dog-tags swinging from my neck. It was now or never.
Steve gave my hand a quick squeeze then let go, letting me cross first.
The beam was wide enough to fit the width of my foot, but it didn’t matter much when paired with unused legs and a rocking platform to stand on. Each explosion below sent me swaying.
Suddenly, the beam began to drop out of place. I took a few cautious steps, then realized I’d have to leap for it, and leap I did, gripping onto the bars opposite of Steve, and hoisting myself up and over them to stand on solid ground.
How’s Steve supposed to get across now? “There’s gotta be a rope or something!” I yelled across the gap.
“Just go! Get out of here!” He yelled back, trying to play the sacrificial hero.
“No! Not without you!” I said defiantly and with finality, smacking my hands on the railing.
He wagered something in his mind, speaking quietly to himself before bending open the railing with pure brute strength so there was an open section without bars in the way. He walked backwards as I watched on nervously and realized he was going to try and cross the gap by jumping. He would never make it.
“Steve! No!” I tried to yell, but he either didn’t hear me or was too confident in his skills and ignored me, cocking his head briefly in thought, then running, jumping across, and clearing the gap.
I immediately grabbed at his upper arms, clinging onto him and pulling him over the railing onto sturdy ground. He stared me in the eye, shocked at his survival, and scoffed a laugh, then hugged me. I hugged him back just the same.
“You’re a punk.” I wheezed into his uniform.
“Jerk.” He smiled back.
mossmom on Chapter 1 Fri 07 Feb 2025 06:25AM UTC
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TheSomethingNetwork on Chapter 1 Sat 08 Feb 2025 02:20AM UTC
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